


Hold Onto Me (I'm a Little Unsteady)

by twowritehands



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ace Lives, Ace!Yuuri, Asexual Character, First Time Sex, Gray Ace, M/M, Mild D/S dynamic, Top!Yuuri, bottom!viktor, sex neutral/sex positive state of being
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 12:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11380143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: Viktor is the first person I have ever wanted to hold onto….[Their first kiss transforms Yuuri from his unsuspecting asexual existence into something of a torturous demi-sexual/gray ace state of being. Unsurprisingly, this is far from a graceful transition for him.Meanwhile, eager Viktor has to learn some patience.]





	1. Chapter 1

After all these years, he isn’t perfect.

In a misguided attempt to motivate me, he shattered my heart when he should have silently stood by me and shared his strength. Viktor Nikiforov is just a man, an inexperienced coach; and I learned that just in time. Knowing my hero is as mortal as me changed me. It helped me skate my best ever. I won the first event of the Grand Prix series. I'm on my way to the Rostelecom Cup with a real chance of victory.

I should be happy--

\--And I am--

… I think.

But, oh, God, that  _ kiss _ . No one has ever kissed me before. Ever. A first kiss on  _ live television _ is enough of a reason to die.

But  _ Viktor Nikiforov’s _ kiss? That’s enough to--

Oh, god. I can still taste his expensive lip balm as I strip out of my costume. The lingering evidence that it was not some adrenaline fueled fantasy has me dizzy.

When it happened, my heart and soul seemed to fly out of my body and into the sun. His soft lips, a puff of warm breath from his nose, that smile as he looked down at me, his warm body pressing me into the ice….  _ The only way I could think of to surprise you _ ...

At the time, I felt alive and free.

Now, having made my way to the locker room through what seemed to be an endless tunnel of staring faces, I am not only shackled back in my body, but I’m mortified.

Viktor kissed me.  _ Me _ !

What does it mean? Does he want---? Do I--?

I have avoided him before when this topic has come up. I am not proud when I do it again over the next few days. Whenever I see him, I just seize up inside, and I have to get away. He pops up around corners and from behind doors, smiling with his usual chirper suggestions. I mumble my way out of all of them, and pretend I don't see the hurt in his eyes as I slink away.

A part of me knows what he wants. Another part doesn't fully understand it. And the unknown frightens me.

The painful truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. Personal relationships have never been my strength. I have friends, but I keep them at a comfortable distance. Viktor has gotten closer than anyone ever before.

There is so much that I want to begin with him, and somehow the one thing I desire the most is for nothing to change. I'm torn. Terrified.

“Yuurr-rrriiii,” Viktor intones one evening, and it’s his long suffering voice. His Russian r’s roll deliciously in the heart of my name. Immediately, I straighten from my routine stretches and prepare to flee. But to my horror, I see that he has cornered me. My back tenses up and heat fills my cheeks red.

“V-Viktor.” My voice comes out choked. I clench my fists.

“Tell me,” Viktor murmurs in my ear. His chest meets my back, but his arms do not go around me. His tone is as wounded as when I touched the thin spot in his hair that first time. “Did my kiss offend you?”

“No!” I yelp, accidently jumping backwards, against him. Firmly muscled arms clench around me; Viktor hugs me from behind. Suddenly I'm not drowning as much as I had been. How can he have the power to keep me together without even trying?

I feel Viktor’s laugh rolling from his chest more than I hear it. “Yura, I cannot read your mind. Please, end my suffering. Tell me what I did wrong that you would shut me out like this.”

“I--” To my horror, my whole body begins to shake in his arms. My brain whirls and whirls, set on a high speed combination spin. What do I do? What do I say? Excuses? Confessions?

“Perhaps I was mistaken, but you seemed so happy after I kissed you. I thought that meant you liked it.”

In the quiet that follows this, my heart pounds in my ears and my breaths roar from me. I realize that Viktor actually expects me to respond. I'm not even sure I have a voice anymore.

“I did like it,” I whisper at last.

“But not enough to do it again?” The flat of his hand moves up to rest over my heart. I'm certain he can feel it pounding. “Tell me the truth. I will respect your answer, even if it kills me.”

I clench my eyes shut, wishing away the reality of this moment. The last thing I want to do is hurt him. But if I give in… I’ll be lost in him--so much more than I already am. Could I survive?

When my moment to speak, or act, passes in silence, Viktor sucks in a breath. “Yuri?”

It's the sound of hurt and the feel of his arms pulling away that has me suddenly pivoting on the spot, grabbing him by the back of the neck, and putting our foreheads together.

It might be possible I have stunned him more than myself, by the wide eyed look on his face, the slack jawed gasp of his surprise. My heart soars. In a brilliant flash, I see that what I will do for him has no limits. The realization makes me feel small. Unsure.

But with his help, maybe I can one day conquer my self preservation instincts and trust in what I feel--

My heart skips a beat just trying to imagine it.

“Don't give up on me,” I beg him.

Instantly, his hands go to my waist.

“Never,” he returns with his trademark ease, but the reassurance in his touch is infinitely more genuine. The sheer comfort of his hands should be bottled and sold to better the world. He rolls his forehead on mine, a cheeky smirk playing at his lips.

He looks like he does whenever he knows he’s winning. My heart plummets.

Does that mean this is just a game to him?

I'm so confused.

“Viktor, don’t toy with me,” I command with firmness enough to wipe away that smirk. “I'm not playing hard to get. I'm not some tease. I'm just--I don't know what… I’m--...”

Viktor tilts in close, his lips just an inch from mine. “I am not toying with you, Yuuri. You must know that when I left skating to coach you, it was not a whim. I feel drawn to you like no other.”

I choke.

“If you are not repulsed by the idea, kiss me, Yuuri. Please “

Really, I would prefer for  _ him _ to close the space between us. I'm such a coward, it’d be easier to just let him kiss me instead of doing the kissing. But Viktor has specifically asked for me to do it. I don't want to disappoint.

The moment our lips meet, he holds me closer, picking me up off my heels. The kiss deepens and it’s a good thing Viktor holds me so tight because my knees give out. When our mouths finally click apart, we’re both breathless and I'm shaking.

“I want to be your lover,” Viktor gasps.

My mind goes blank and my whole body seizes up, because the sheer lust of his voice is completely foreign to me. That’s the part that I do not understand about personal relationships: wanting someone so much, in a  _ physical _ way. It’s different than how I want Viktor. With a single heated look, he opens a gulf between us and doesn’t even realize it.

Despite my immediate unease, I have enough wits about me to see the playful lust in his eyes fade into concern. He has felt the tension enter my body. A hand strokes my cheek. “Is that okay, Yuuri?”

“I-I’m not ready,” I stammer. My blush could fry eggs, and I'm mortified. But it’s my truth. I won’t be able to live with myself if I rush into this and mess it up. What I have with him is far too precious to be so reckless.

To my surprise, a grin hooks in the corner of my coach’s mouth. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anymore than this for a while.”

His words are  _ exactly _ what I need to hear. My sigh of relief comes out way more dramatically than I intend, and it makes Viktor throw his head back and laugh.

“Is the idea of taking me as a lover so repulsive?”

“No!”

I'm horrified that I accidently gave that impression. Of all the reasons why I would prefer not to have sex,  _ revulsion _ is not one of them. Viktor is utterly beautiful. I want to be close to him… I want to keep kissing him. I want him all to myself. I'm not  _ repulsed _ by him, I'm  _ drawn _ to him. But more? I don't know about more.

And shouldn't I know by now? Isn't it something they always say? When you know, you know? When it's right, you’ll know.  _ You'll know, _ they say.

So not knowing, then… that means… what? That it's not real?

But it feels all too real when Viktor’s laugh booms out of him, full and perfect. It rings my heart like a bell. I melt into his arms a little bit. “To be honest,” I confess, “I don't put a lot of thought into taking anyone as a lover.”

“No?” Viktor sounds genuinely surprised. It makes me feel that gulf between us again, that sea of lust he seems to rise out of like some kind of god of sexual thirst. I might as well be a dusty rock on a barren mountain peak, he seems so drenched in lust and far away from me in that moment.

Viktor chuckles, tucking my head under his chin. We sway on the spot, holding onto one another. “I think of you having lovers far more than is appropriate.”

Viktor’s confession makes my blood race like I'm sitting for an exam that I am in no way prepared to take. “You do?”

“Da,” he grunts and chuckles as if amused. “I am moved by you in every conceivable way.”

“Oh,” I feel giddy.

Viktor releases me. “A walk on the beach would be nice. Don't you think, Yuuri?”

I do. And the way Viktor suddenly returns to his usual cheery self, like nothing has changed, is another relief. Things don’t always have to be so heavy.

We make our way to the ocean and by the time we walk hand in hand, barefoot through the sand, I’m not sure if this is really happening or if I’ve fallen too hard on the ice, knocked my head and sent myself into a coma.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asks.

“I-I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“Phichit once said I’m too much of a spaz about sex and should just relax and let it happen. But it doesn't come  _ naturally _ to me.”

“Hmmmm,” Viktor looks dark. “When he said this, was he in bed with you, trying to become your lover?”

I blush, remembering vividly our shared dormitory in Detroit, the time I let Phichit crawl over me and press me into my pillows. He had almost kissed me. Before Viktor, it was the closest anyone had ever gotten. “We had learned we were both virgins and were discussing the possibility of getting our first times over with together.” At this Viktor darkens even more. “But…” I sigh, cringing at the memory. “I couldn't go through with it. I couldn't even kiss him.”

“And then he was cruel to you?”

“Not at all! Phichit is a great friend! When he told me to relax, he was only offering some advice!”

Viktor stops walking and pulls me into him by our linked hands. I bounce off his chest but his other arm lashes me into place. “And then you tried to follow his advice? You tried to relax and let sex happen with another?”

“No! ” I laugh. I’m amused that Viktor still fishes for details in regards to my sexual history. What does he think? That I have people lining up to be with me? That I have a mysterious history of touches and whispers and gasps of pleasure? Ha!

Viktor smiles. “You are pure.”

I blush. “Not on purpose.”

“No? You had a chance to know another yet you denied it. Your purity sounds very much like a considered state of being to me.”

“Phichit doesn't count! I never wanted him like--” I cut off.

Viktor’s eyes flash with fire that does not reflect in me.

“Like you want me?” The hope in his eyes and voice hurts. My heart sinks. Viktor thinks I yearn for him physically. I don’t--at least not  _ sexually _ . I do yearn. For the first time in my life, I yearn; that’s what he does to me. But it isn't sexual.

“Yes and no,” I say and turn away. “I want you more than I want anyone else but I don't want…” Unable to find exactly what it is I want to say, I abandon that sentence and just blurt, “Sex is just so messy!”

Viktor’s amazing laugh returns. He draws up beside me, and we sit together in the sun warmed sand. “Of course it’s messy, Yuuri, that’s what makes it so fun!”

He might as well have said that two and three makes four, his logic strikes me as so inherently flawed. Viktor gets one look at my expression and howls with laughter before he slings an arm around my shoulder and plants a sloppy kiss to my cheek. “God love you, Yuuri Katsuki! You look so astounded to hear such a thing!”

“Messy has never been enjoyable to me,” I mumble, embarrassed.

“Truly?” His forehead rests on mine. His thumb trails my jaw tenderly. “Not even when you pleasure yourself?”

I choke and my whole body tenses up and turns red. I want to dig a hole in the sand and hide in it. Lurching away from him, I cry, “WHAT? NO!”

Viktor falls down onto his back, holding his ribs as he laughs. I stay upright, and hug my knees to my chest, hiding my face.

After a minute, I feel his hand warming my back through my shirt. I can feel how much he cares in the touch. My wounded pride is soothed a little. His fingers march playfully up my spine. “So when you play, you keep things tidy? How  _ interesting.. _ .”

I squeeze my eyes shut, too horrified to speak.

“Yuuri? Yuuri? Are you okay? Does this topic make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes!” I snap.

After a stunned pause, Viktor mumbles to himself in regret filled Russian and then sits up, takes one of my hands. “Once again I have messed up and you push me away. Please, forgive me.”

I look out at the ocean and don't say anything. I wouldn't know what to say even if I wanted to speak.

“Yuuri? Don’t hate me. I was only teasing.”

An uncontrolled smile breaks on my lips as I say it, because it 's so true. “I can't hate you.”

Viktor beams at me. “No? Well, that is good to know!”

I shove him. He shoves me back. Within moments we start wrestling. I'm surprised by how easily I manage to pin him until I realize belatedly that he has purposefully let me win. 

I'm not offended.

For all my inexperience, I understand that he yielded only as a means to get me in the position we’re suddenly in. He lays on his back, hair fanned out in the sand, and I'm kneeling over him.

His eyes are dark pools of lust again, and his smile has gone wicked. My heart stops with my breath. I feel whiplashed. One moment we’re  _ so close _ and then in the next, we’re miles apart. It’s like I'm the knot at the end of the string, and he’s the heavy yo-yo dipping so much further down the string than I’ll ever go.

“Yuuurrrriiii,” he purrs, his curling lips dancing close to mine. “Kiss me again.”

I obey the command, because kissing I at least understand. The joining of our mouths, the mingling of breaths and touching of tongues--yes, I see the appeal. Without words, we communicate something. Share something. It's a give and take. Private. Precious.

Kissing, I decide, is good.

But when I go to pull away, Viktor holds the back of my head and doesn't let the kiss end. I'm less sure now. As fun as it is, it seems unnecessary to draw it out so long. But I don't fight him, taking his lead instead and kissing back. When he does new things with his tongue--twists and flicks--I try to do them back.

At last he lets me go, and I gratefully pull away. My lips feel swollen and my mouth tastes a little stale. It’s surreal that I had my tongue against someone else's for so long.

When ours eyes meet, I barely comprehend what’s going on in Viktor’s half lidded expression. I know enough to blush and pull further away until I'm sitting with my back to him, with my knees drawn up like before.

His hand goes to my spine, a point of warmth between us. “You are a fast learner, Yuuri. Already your kiss is the best I've ever had.”

“Yeah?” I'm surprised by this. Frankly, I still feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark.

Viktor strokes my back, answering only with an affirmative grunt. He does not sit up, and I keep my position.

I'm pleased when moment after moment rolls by and neither of us speaks. A comfortable silence falls around us like a fresh-from-the-dryer quilt. I sit and enjoy his reassuring stroking of my spine… the waves... the seagulls... the wind…. It feels like a perfect day. I close my eyes and wish for a thousand more just like it.


	2. Chapter 2

Training for the Rostelecom Cup becomes our focus. With Viktor to hold onto when it feels impossible, I find the strength to push myself to new levels. It doesn't even feel like work anymore. It’s still difficult, extremely taxing physically--but it’s all so much fun I’m not suffering through it like I have done in the past. I know exactly who to thank for that.

Viktor is amazing. He’s flawed, sort of just figuring this coach thing out as he goes, but in a weird way, that's what I love most about him. He doesn't have all the answers either. It’s almost like we fill in each other's blank spaces. What I don't know about love he can show me, and what I need from my coach I explain to him.

We're one hell of a team.

But it all comes at a price. Letting Viktor in has a negative effect on my relationship with my family. Don't get me wrong, they love him. Already my mom and sister treat him like he has always been here and my dad has adopted Makkachin in our extended absence for the season which gives Viktor as much common ground with him as he’s ever going to get.

The problem is me. I don't know what it is. With Viktor so close, I feel myself pulling away from them. I can't help it. But the way they look at me now and the things they say so off-hand--they think I’m sleeping with my coach!

The whole world believes that, and I know it shouldn't matter what anyone thinks, but it adds pressure to the whole situation. From the outside looking in, we make sense: Viktor and Yuuri, coach and skater, boyfriends, lovers.

I’m still not ready.

Viktor has figured out how to be patient with me. It’s not easy for him, and God knows I owe him one, but he has given me all the time I need. Since we both spend so much energy focusing on winning the Grand Prix, it hasn't come up a great deal and I'm glad.

But, win or lose, the Grand Prix will be over one day, and I need to have my answers by then. If I win, and I don't have to focus so much, will I want more? If I lose, would sleeping with Viktor make me feel better?

I just don't know.

: : :

Rain drums heavy on the roof of the rink the evening I land every jump perfectly in practice for the first time in my life. A perfect program start to finish. I can feel it in my blood how true it was.

“Yuuri! That is it! That is what winning feels like!”

Viktor swoops around me, a fine spray of ice over the toe of my black boot. He takes my hands as we do a lap to cool down. I can feel how red my face is, and how hard my lungs work for each breath. Funny. I don't even feel that tired. There’s a fire in my body that makes me feel invincible.

“It was so beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor praises with warmth. His eyes are heavy with sincerity. I can't really look at it and so watch where we go instead. He offers his opinion on a few technical aspects that have improved in the last week and then he praises me again on my performance. “You have really locked onto something, Yuuri. I don't want you to lose that. Hold onto it. Whatever it is.”

I grab hold of his hand and squeeze. His eyes widen and the corner of his mouth tilts. I pull him closer and we kiss until our forward momentum dies and we come to a gentle stop at the edge of the ice.

“I think you know what I'm holding onto.”

A genuine flash of shyness on Victor's face makes me doubt reality. What? How can that be real?!? Is this a dream?

“Yuuri…” He laces all ten of our fingers tightly. Our foreheads touch.

I close my eyes. Today is quite possibly the best day of my life. Even if I win the Grand Prix, it can’t beat this can it? Because it’s like Viktor said, I have already felt what it is to skate a winning program, so now all I have to do is skate it one more time, in front of the world.

...I think I can do it. But I'm glad the first time happened in private like this, with just me and Viktor. It’s Ours and no one else’s.

As tempting as it is that night, I don't get a pork cutlet bowl for dinner. I haven't actually won yet, which I have to remind my mother because the way Viktor goes on and on about my performance today, her confusion is understandable. I shoot Viktor The Look, which is the silent way of getting my coach back on the proper track. I need less blind support and a little more of his trademark tough love. Otherwise I’ll go soft.

The pork cutlet bowl is too tempting.

“I’m going to bed,” I announce, turning away from the alluring dish. Viktor slurps the last of his noodles as he stands. “I’m coming with you.”

Oh God, that sounds like we’re headed to the same bed doesn't it??

I glance at my family to gage their reactions--my sister catches my eye and winks. My heart plummets as my stomach twists. She thinks she’s assuring me that it’s okay to have a lover but it doesn’t work. Because I’m  _ not _ sleeping with him even though he's my boyfriend and no one ever assures me that  _ that’s _ okay too.

Not even Viktor. He tries harder than anyone, but I see it in his eye when I’m done kissing him sometimes. He wants more.

We go upstairs together. I don't feel very good.

“Yuuri? What’s wrong?” Viktor moves close to me as soon as we’re alone on the second floor. My bedroom door is closed. Viktor’s is open. Makkachin sticks his head out and wags his tail.

Everything swirls in my head. The short program. The pork cutlet. Expectations and my own personal demands. My long journey to this moment as a skater. My uncertain future.

What if I win? What if I lose?

With a gasp, I drag Viktor into a desperate kiss. Part of it is instinct to escape the madness. In his arms the world just makes sense. The other part is a sudden clarity: I don't want my first time with Viktor to be a consolation prize for not having the gold medal I promised myself.

Viktor hums with surprise and pleasure to be kissed so forcefully, so unexpectedly. (Our good night kisses are usually pretty chaste.) His arms fit tightly around me in the way he has become accustomed to doing ever since he picked up on how groping makes me uncomfortable.

With a loud clanging in my ears, I push his hands lower, to my ass. He responds with fervor; no hesitation or inquiry. This is all so natural for him, why would he question it?

He hums again and the kiss deepens. I focus on doing everything with the same level of seduction I’ve found on the ice. Within seconds I have the famed sexy skater putty in my arms. Me and the wall I gently push him against are the only things holding him up.

I can feel the heat and eager tension in his muscles. He’s rosey faced and giggly; drunk. I don't know if I like having this kind of power but I also understand the honor it is to have it. Viktor  _ trusts  _ me. Me!

I can't hurt him. I’d rather die than disappoint him.

“Viktor…” My voice is small from nerves. “Can I spend the night in your room?”

He nods, breath heavy. His fingers burn against my skin. He holds me  _ so tight _ .

I can do this, I can do this.

We lock the dog out. With a resigned little whine, he goes downstairs to find my dad. If my family weren't convinced before they will be now; only one thing would keep the dog from sleeping up here tonight.

“Are you ready for this, Yura?”

The question catches me off guard. My heart does a triple Lutz. Viktor hasn't forgotten my hang ups. He still meets me halfway.

I exhale loudly and a little laugh jumps out with it. To be perfectly honest, I think I am. “It’s sudden. I know. I just. I need to try right now.”

Viktor takes charge just long enough to slow things down. My kisses were urgent and a little sloppy for it. Now the heat is still there, but the urgency has sunk beneath the surface. He positions us on the bed for more of this focused kissing.

I’m over him like that day on the beach. This is how he prefers it, I've noticed. Viktor goes pliant a lot, so willing to relinquish control it’s kind of ironic that he’s my coach. At first I thought he did it to ease my nerves but now I know better. He wants me to take him.

I’ll do my best.

As we kiss, he hooks a leg up over my hip. I feel how hard he is. He seems unable to stop bumping up against me. It makes him gasp and tremble when I make conscious efforts to grind back down on him. I'm not as hard as he is yet. It surprises me how far gone he already is. For him, it's like the sex has already started. I'm falling so far behind!

What pleasure I get from the rutting of our clothed bodies is pleasant, even welcome, but it doesn't land on me like it does on him. It’s like he’s a raw nerve touched by electricity. I'm in awe just witnessing it.

When it comes to sex, I may have no personal experience to draw from, but I’m no innocent either. I know the mechanics and what's expected from me. In theory, anyway. I’ve seen films. Read books. Overheard real sex in the various hotels I've stayed in during competition seasons.

Like my college degree in hotel management, I took the time to learn about something I was never sure I'd use. Largely uninterested, I studied it anyway because college degrees are what people get. And sex is what people have.

Viktor once asked me about when I pleasure myself. The truth is, I rarely do. My libido never causes me much stress. I seek that kind of release once every blue moon, usually as nothing more than a tension breaker. Truthfully, I get more of a release of endorphins eating unhealthy food than I do masturbating.

The way Viktor clings to me and grinds against me is like an addict begging for another hit, longing for the high just out of reach. It's almost amusing for me to watch. Viktor is so cute right now. I get the distinct impression that overwhelming him will be easy enough. I just have to--

Wait. What does he like?

Those strong hands cup either side of my face, run under my ears, into my hair to grip the back of my neck. “Yuuri, I know that look. You’re searching for something.”

He knows me so well!

“I'm not--” I clear my throat and confess. “I'm not sure where to begin, exactly.”

He chuckles warmly and combs the hair over my ear, whispering wickedly. “Condoms and lubricant would be ideal.”

I blush. Of course! But my brain grinds to a halt when I consider the horror that would be getting caught rummaging the downstairs bathroom for lube. And would my dad even  _ have _ condoms? Gross! Don't think about that!

Oh god. What am I doing going through with this in a house filled with my family?

Before I can work out what to do, Viktor twists and reaches away, fumbling open a drawer. I recall that we’re in his room and sigh in relief; of course he'll have what we need. Within moments, he has produced the necessary things.

Looking at the objects, that gulf widens between us once more as I realize that he goes all over the world, living out of a suitcase, yet is sure to be prepared for sex. It must be like breathing to him. A cornerstone of life, like food, water and shelter. Why does it not seem so important to me? What's wrong with me?

He leaves the drawer open, and I see a colorful selection of dildos and vibrators. The sight of them makes me choke. Did he travel with those? Did Customs rummage through those erotic toys while Viktor waited to the side, unbothered by the blatant breach of his privacy? I can see it clearly. Viktor isn't bothered so easily by this stuff. To him it's not gross or shameful.

One of the dildos is so well endowed that I suddenly don't feel man enough for him. Would he even enjoy it? What if he fakes it? Can I do this without humiliating myself?

I wonder how many lovers he's had and am suddenly regretful that I never let him tell me about them when he offered. If I had, maybe I wouldn't feel so lost right now. I would have ideas about what he's looking for now.

I feel like I'm on a stage in the middle of a competition, I don't know the steps, the music is brand new, and I have no idea who my competitors are. But I can bet they're better than me.

“Are you nervous?” Viktor asks, wriggling under me as he kicks out of his pants. I scramble to remove my own. We’ve been completely naked together enough times that this shouldn't make me so self conscious, but it does. Naked in bed with Viktor Nikiforov. This is already so much further than I’ve ever gotten with anyone else.

Before I can formulate a response, his long fingers trail down my torso from clavicle to navel. “I remember you like things tidy. Shall I prepare myself for you?”

My voice cracks in my throat. “Yes--I suppose.”

Viktor dispenses the gel so quickly I barely even see the bottle. His hand sinks low and he works quietly on himself while I kneel between his legs like some kind of awkward intruder. I feel like I should be doing something sexy but what? Should I touch him? Say something? Kiss him?

“...ah...Yuuri…”

His heated words draw my eyes to his and I become locked there by his gaze. It’s so hungry. Something inside of me answers that look like an old friend. I’m hungry too. But are we hungry for the same things? Viktor wants more pleasure of the flesh while I….

I just want more of the light in those blue eyes. The innermost Viktor. It’s a beacon guiding me and this sexual stuff feels more like the rocks that I'll crash and die on if I’m not careful. The only reason I don't turn back now is because those eyes tell me this is the course I must take to get to the treasure. To have Viktor’s heart and soul, I have to take the body that goes with it. He yearns for it.

So I have to try. I busy myself putting on the condom and slicking it. It feels so weird to wear one.

“There. I’m ready for you, I think.” Viktor says. His voice is soft. I think I feel a tremor in his body. Why doesn't he sound sure? It isn't like him to lack confidence.

In a sudden flash, I’m washed head to toe with his heart. It is just a moment, but I am in it long enough to guess the truth. He’s nervous because this really matters. It isn't a fun romp with a fan. He actually cares.

I shake visibly and my throat goes dry. A jumble of heartbeats and spinning thoughts later, I decide I’ve invented the entire thing. How could I know what he feels right now? I'm not a mind reader. I'm just a hopeless romantic about to lose my virginity to a lifelong crush and oh god. I am so in over my head.

“Yuuri, please,” Viktor begs because I haven't moved to enter him yet. I snap out of it, and push myself back into my Eros personae.

I run a hand up his body, caress his neck, and then take a gentle handful of his silver hair. My cock is firm, finally, from my steady fist. I line up and sink in.

A small sound escapes Viktor that makes me feel like I'm on the ice skating fast and free and loose. Just having fun. I really do feel a tremor in him this time. He pulls me closer with more broken vowels of happiness.

It’s a lot of sensation to take in at first. The tightness. The slippery heat. Viktor's pliant body, alabaster hips and thighs and hands. He clutches me so tight again I feel like he’s keeping me from floating away. My skin erupts with chill bumps. He lifts his shoulders to connect our mouths.

The kiss is familiar territory into which I pour my energy. It deepens so fast and hard that I end up biting him by mistake just to keep up. His lip darkens a deep mauve and he looks surprised. His cock leaks a little. Suddenly we’re moving. Viktor digs his shoulders into the bed and undulates his hips against mine. It feels good. I do my best to meet him thrust for thrust.

Viktor starts moaning. It’s such an amazing sound and sight I brace myself and focus on keeping this pace. The pleasure rolls through me but my mind rises out of the fray.

I'm having sex with Viktor Nikiforov!

I can't believe I bit him! Was that okay? He seemed to like it. But maybe that was just because it surprised him. How can I keep surprising him? I can't keep biting him, but I’m already doing everything I know to do. Is it enough?

Judging by the way Viktor clutches the sheets and exposes his throat, I’m doing fine. I like it best when he smiles or laughs giddily. It makes electricity web over my body. He’s actually having fun! With me!

I shift my position, lifting his hips higher off the bed. He throws a leg over my shoulder and I sink deeper than ever. His shouts of ecstasy get loud.

That’s supposed to be a good thing, but I can't help cringing at the thought of my family over hearing this. How embarrassing!

I falter. Viktor mewls. We shift around again and Viktor puts his back to me. The smell of his shampoo dances in my nostrils as we slide back together. He ruts in my lap, hands covering mine as I trace his muscles. He’s quieter now but the bed starts jolting, and I become aware of our body sounds.

Why does something that feels this good cost so much dignity? I try to ignore it, since it's a natural part of the act. Maybe Viktor being loud has its perks after all.

I hold him tighter by the ribs and bite his neck. He gasps and his wicked laugh vibrates us both head to toe. I smile against his skin and rub his nipples. He clenches around me, gasping and shaking, then pushes my hand to his cock.

It is slick with gel because Viktor has been fisting himself. That should have been my job!

I stroke him with the same technique I've perfected for those rare shower sessions. It’s steady and relentless, designed to bring a swift end.

That happens way sooner than I expect. I barely even get going before Viktor's body seizes, he huffs and then howls as he spills a copious amount.

We come to a complete stop. He twists enough to lock our lips. His kisses are drugged and sleepy and some of the best ever. I instantly crave a hundred more of these soft, dazed love bites.

I shake. Or maybe he shakes. We both laugh a little. I scrub hands over his body as if to warm him. He looks over his shoulder with this hooded look in his eye. “Was good for you?”

I nod so hard my glasses slide to the tip of my nose. I didn't come, but it  _ was _ good--I never would have gotten so many glimpses of vulnerable Viktor if we hadn't done that. And even though it was kind of a nightmare for me, I’ll do it again, just to see Viktor like this. He’s wide open at the seams, oozing the light I crave from him. It was never about ejaculating for me. I got what I wanted.

Air pushes out of his nose in a tired, happy little laugh. “Me too.”

I help him ease off my lap and lay down, away from the mess in the sheets. Already he can't keep his eyes open. He’s so beautiful I feel like I'm dying.

My cock softens while I clean up. I smile to myself and settle to watch him sleep. My vision blurs a little with tears.

My Viktor--the man I have slowly gotten to know since he showed up to be my coach--is imperfect. He’s selfish and flakey and just winging the whole Coach thing. Also, turns out, he isn't half as promiscuous as he pretends to be.

I mean I know I wasn't that good. Without experience or a lot of practice, it’s just impossible. So it can only mean one thing. He has more lovers than me but probably not as many as most. (Certainly not as many as his reputation suggests.) That's the only explanation for how he was so overthrown, right? And it makes sense. One doesn't become the world's best skater overnight. He put the hours in; the time most kids spent dating, we spent skating. He just hides it better than the rest of us.

My sweet, only-human, Viktor.

I can burst with happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

At breakfast, everything feels surreal.

I don't know what I expected the world to be like after I lost my virginity. Different, somehow, in a good way….

It’s not.

Everything is simultaneously exactly the same and a hundred times weirder. I want to talk it out with Viktor, but I can't bring it up when I don't even understand it myself.

On one hand, being able to truthfully deny being a virgin lifts a weight from my shoulders. Finally, I'm like all the other twenty three year olds I know. I don't have to be that under-developed nerd in a highly sexualized society. I feel... _normal_.

On the other hand, I strangely miss the label. I went so long as a virgin, I had begun to feel a certain kind of pride. Viktor was right, I _had_ chosen to stay pure. Having given that away --even to Viktor--leaves me feeling somewhat lost. I can't go back to being a proud virgin, but having only done it one time doesn't feel like anything to boast about either. I find myself pressured to do it again, and again, and again. Like learning a new move in skating, I have to master it before I can be proud of it.

But, unlike skating, I don't actually want to try again. I almost want to sweep the whole thing under the rug and go back to how things were.

Because the most difficult part is that, by sleeping with him, I only made things more complicated. I was in over my head before, but at least then I could see the shore. Now I’m at sea. No way back.

After all, who only has sex with their boyfriend once? What kind of lover does it once, doesn't even come from it, and then won't do it again if he doesn't have to? What’s wrong with me? Whatever semblance of normal I might get for no longer being a virgin is taken away again. I should want to have sex again right? I don't. I want Viktor to open up to me again. To let me in, show me his heart… but if he could do that without sex, I would feel better.

Viktor kisses me differently after that night. Holds me differently too. In his mind, we cleared the only and last hurdle. To him, sex can happen whenever and wherever we want. I know how that excites him. I let him make his low, breathy comments to me. Sometimes I kiss him just to shut him up, and when I do it's like setting a bomb to go off.

Like the second night when I capture his tongue to stop him from whispering suggestive things to me as we eat, all that does is inject fire into his body. He pulls me with him to his room, and I go because I can't say no. He’s hot for it and it's my own doing, so it’s only right to help him out, right?

My whole body hurts from practise, I'm tired and really the only thing I want is a soak in the springs and maybe some chocolate. But I’ll do this with Viktor instead. It’s not as if he’s asking me to do something truly terrible. It’ll feel good in the end. What's a few exhausting, awkward minutes in the grand scheme of things?

I focus on the good aspects of it. Like that it’s, technically, a form of intimacy, and even though Viktor isn't highly talkative after a certain point he does become extremely vulnerable in other ways, ways I just need to get used to.

And, once it’s done, I’ll have Viktor spent and sleepy in my arms; serenity incarnate. That will be my prize. Totally worth the hassle of getting undressed, making a little mess, cleaning up, and redressing. All in the name of love. The man is just too gorgeous to deny him anything.

One bonus is that he gets so into it he has yet to notice that I'm pretending. And he falls asleep like someone flipped a switch, so he never notices that I don't come. These are weird things to be grateful for, but I am. But I'm worried one day, he’ll notice what I'm hiding.

Even after a rigorous day of training, he still has the energy to rut in the crease of my groin, and I receive sloppy kisses and what sounds like Russian dirty talk. Unable to understand his words, I sort of leave my body and watch the whole thing with the same passive attention I've held for all the porn I've ever bothered to watch.

Man, I never would have bet that my life would remind me of one of those videos. Ever.

Who have I become? What if Viktor realizes I’m that freak who has been faking it? That will hurt him. Humiliate him. Would he leave?

I swear it's like I'm holding on by my fingertips.

The third night, he begs me to fuck him again, but I'm not hard and don't have the energy to get myself there, so I push through my inhibitions and finger him. It’s messy, but interesting, and thankfully by the time I return from washing my hands, he’s sound asleep.

The next morning, I visit my room for clean clothes and feel like I’m on a weird vacation from my life, one that just won't end. I feel homesick or something. It's a difficult emotion to explain, but it shows up during practice.

I suddenly can't keep a basic camel spin steady. I wobble and drift and jumps are just out of the question. When I flub the second one in a row, Viktor calls for a full stop and meets me in the center of the rink.

He glides to soft stop in front of me with his arms crossed and his head tilted. The hickeys I have left on his neck mock me. I look away.

“What's on your mind, Yuuri?”

“Nothing.”

“You flub your jumps when something is bothering you. What is it?”

I'm silent, frantically wondering how I can get out of this. I can't tell my boyfriend that I'm tired of _being_ a boyfriend. That would sound like we're breaking up! I take his hands. His skate glides between mine and his pelvis bumps against mine. I'm grateful he isn't hard.

“What is it, zoloste? I'm not only your coach but I'm your lover. That means you can tell me anything.”

My coach. That gives me an idea. I draw in a steadying breath and begin. “Okay, well. It's… it's the routine. I'm not feeling it.”

“No?” Viktor laughs and his eyes get that lustful look in them that I've come to dread. “You are not feeling sexy? Your Eros needs some waking up?” He moves in to kiss me, but I move backwards with a strong sure stroke on the ice that sends me gliding out of his reach. Viktor looks stunned.

I'm terrified, but I have to get this out. We've worked too hard for me to screw this up over a matter of communication. “That’s just it! After the last three nights, my Eros is kind of depleted.”

Viktor's eyebrows push low. I already feel lighter on my skates so I keep going, a wide arc around him. “I haven't slept in my own bed in days. I don't recognize myself anymore.”

“You're evolving, Yuuri. Growing into a stronger skater and you've become a lover. Some change is good.”

“Yeah but--am I a stronger skater? I’m all over the place out here.” I attempt a toe loop and over rotate. Viktor lurches forward as if to steady me as I wobble. The words ooze out of me like a poison leaving my system. “My Eros started as a pork cutlet bowl, which I was never allowed to have. Then it became you, but--”

“You get me every night.”

I nod, throat dry. Viktor puts his knuckle to his lips. I skate to my water bottle and drink to the bottom of it. I can't even look at him. My head spins. _What am I doing_? I have Viktor Nikiforov all to myself and I'm throwing it away!!

“You are saying I have to starve you.”

“Maybe. I don't know.”

“We can do that! The Rostelecom Cup is close. We sleep apart until after. To give you the edge you need.”

I honestly wasn't expecting to be let off the hook. My shoulders relax. “You’re not mad?”

“I am your coach. It is my job to keep you motivated. If missing me is what it takes, then by all means.”

:: :: ::

It’s a load off my mind to know Viktor isn't expecting anything that night. Things feel back to normal, finally. We talk and laugh about skating and other skaters while we play with Makkachin.

That night in my bed, I stare at the ceiling. Makkachin is next to me, a solid line of heat down my shin, the comforting weight of his head on my foot. I can't sleep. Can Viktor? Is he thinking about me? Is he using one of those toys and realizing how mediocre I am as a lover?

He didn't say much after we agreed to slow down. And it's not like we could have discussed it over dinner with my whole family sitting with us. He gave me a sweet, lingering little kiss outside my door and said goodnight. But it hasn't been a good night. I toss and turn and something feels wrong.

I leave Makkachin tucked in and go to Viktor's room. The door isn't locked and I slide it open enough to squeeze inside. The lights are off, but moonlight lets me see Viktor turn over and sit up. “Yuuri?”

“I can't sleep.”

“Zoleste, I yearn for you too, but we made a deal.”

I close my fists. “We need to talk. I don't think I need to be on edge to skate Eros. I was never on edge before so why would that work now? The problem is I don't feel close to you anymore. That's why I can't skate for you like I have been.”

“Not close?”

“I know it sounds dumb. I’ve gotten you off three nights in a row, so it sounds like we’re closer than ever but we just aren't.”

Silence falls. It’s excruciating. Finally Viktor speaks, soft and even a little amused. “I have felt that too, a little. The strange distance in your eye.”

“You have?”

“I figured it was your inexperience, that you simply need time to adjust to having a lover.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Well… I don't know. Maybe I'm just in mourning for who I was. Virgin me was kind of weird but I at least knew what I was doing and why. Now…”

“It’s a lot happening very quickly. Even I have never had a live-in lover.”

I blanch. That element never even occurred to me. I laugh and sit on the foot of his bed. “When you put it like that… We spend all day at the rink together and then come home to the same place.”

“So we had it right the first time. We need to miss each other.”

“If _you_ need space. I hadn't even thought--”

Viktor laces our fingers. “No. I only gave you space because I thought that was what you needed.”

“I need you,” I choke. “I--I need to be close to you, Viktor. I need to stay beside you as much as I can. Is that okay?”

Viktor nods once. He grins. “You only have to ask for whatever you need. I will give it. Always.That is a promise.”

“Really?”

“I have no intention of messing us up, Yuuri. I have spent considerable time thinking about love and that is the only thing I am certain for my future: I won't live without it.”

He’s angelic in the moonlight, pearly skin, silvery hair, thick lashes veiling his soft eyes. I choke because this is vulnerable Viktor. I put our foreheads together, staunchly resist the urge to squeeze the life out of the object of my affection.

He holds me in return, and I feel like I have both feet squarely on the ground again.

“Can I sleep in here? Sleep-sleep?”

He nods bashfully and becomes the little spoon. I kiss the thinning part of his hair. He tucks his feet around my cold ones to warm me up. A few minutes later, the dog invites himself into the bed and tucks into the space behind my knees and Viktor hums lovingly. “Good boy.”


	4. Chapter 4

Viktor kisses my skate on live television. The world goes crazy over it. We’re more popular than ever as a team and a couple. It starts to crop up in interviews. Clever reporters phrase their questions to ascertain the exact nature of the relationship. I become glad I slept with Viktor--it would be excruciating to deal with the comments if I hadn't.

Now I have the confidence to roll my eyes and deflect such talk as Unimportant. Why is the whole world obsessed with sex? And how is it any of their business to start with? I don't deny that I am romantically involved with my coach, but any prying questions beyond that set my teeth on edge.

Our love is sacred to me. It isn't for anyone else. I feel a need to protect it savagely. And I worry that it won't always be there. I have this blistering hope it will be--but I need more than that.

So the minute I reunite with Viktor, I ask him to stay with me so that nothing has to change, ever. His answer stirs me at my core. My, how his mind works; jumping all the way to marriage over one little promise.

Only, it isn't that big a jump, is it? He is meeting me halfway.

We stand there, choking, and are saved by sweet Makkachin. I greet him with as much love as a dog can stand.

“What did the vet say?” I ask as we exit the airport.

The view of the city looks completely different to me and I blink at it a few times. What’s changed? I realize that I have.

To have the courage to ask for love and have it returned; this is the transformation I expected for the morning after losing my virginity. The world is new and full of promise and I don't feel alone.

Viktor relates the story of Makkachin’s recovery and buys us train tickets while I kneel down to the poodle’s level. He licks my face and I give him another good scratch. “Don't ever scare me like that again.”

His wet nose touches my glasses and his tail wags. I rub his ears. “Good boy.”

“Yuuri! Viktor!”

We turn to find a dreadfully familiar face. A particularly nosey reporter for a local gossip rag. Viktor is friendly as ever, but I keep my mouth shut until the guy asks what score we would give each other in the bedroom. Anger scorches the back of my throat but before I can rip the guy a new one, Viktor laughs.

“What a fun question! Let’s just say if you think Yuuri is good on the ice--”

“Okay, we really need to get going!” I cut in.

“Yuuri? What’s wrong? I say nice things about you!”

“I don't like answering questions about my personal life.”

“Your fans want more of you, Yuuri. Why not give them harmless fun like that?”

“It’s  _ private _ .”

“I have messed up again. I see now that you are very serious about your privacy.”

I close my fists and nod, eyes on the sidewalk ahead of me. Viktor walks by my side in a pensive mood.

As we take our seats on the train, I finally ask. “How did you live like this for 11 years? Obsessed fans hounding you for personal information all the time. I remember reading a lot of interviews where you shared all kinds of stuff. I used to love it. But now that I'm on the other side, I don't get it. How did you live like that?”

Viktor smiled. “My fans were the only ones who loved me. I wanted to feel close to them.”

I stare, shocked by the revelation. Viktor can try to grin it away like it’s no big deal, but I can see sadness deep in his eye. The painful kind that doesn't just go away on its own. My heart leaps into my throat, trying to make the jump from me to him to fill that void.

“I’m sorry.”

The train compartment is wide enough for me to lay down with my head in his lap, knees bent. He looks down at me with a charmed smile. I look up at him with a thudding heart. “You have me now.”

He combs my hair with his fingers and his voice is soft but sincere. “That is so nice to hear.”

I remember his confession from the other night:  _ love is the only thing I am certain about my future: I won't live without it _ .

My chest tightens. Should he actually stop skating and lose his fans, I will make damn sure he feels love, no matter what.

The train takes us home and I stay in Viktor's room with him again. We had spent the last several nights cuddling and it’s been exactly what I need. But tonight he needs me. What if he makes a move? How can I refuse?

We cuddle beneath the covers, and I coax him to talk about his childhood and the reason he starting skating. It isn't easy to hear some parts of it, and I grow a hundred times more thankful for the love and support I get at home.

“Viktor, I--” The words hang in my throat. Viktor pulls back to look at me. His eyes flash with understanding, lust and devotion.

“Yes, yes, say it. Put into words what I already know from watching you skate.”

“You--you really  _ do _ already know, don't you?”

“Da, but, please… say it… I like to hear it from my lovers.... Especially when I know it to be true....” He guides my hands to certain parts of his body. Our faces are close, breath mingling. My pulse quickens.

Right now? He wants sex even when he is crying? Is that normal? (I wouldn't know. For me a good cry is all it takes. Seems like overkill to double up on the stress release. But if Viktor needs it, then okay.)

I spoon up behind him, kiss his neck and slide my hands beneath his clothes. Fond laughter, wet with tears, sweetens our kisses. Remembering his request, I pause with my lips at his ear. “I love you, Viktor.”

A tremble and a little sniff alert me to the fact that he’s crying into the pillow. “And I love you, Yuuri.”

I start to shake, and without thought I give a voice to the second thing I know. “You really mean that.”

He moves backwards against me, fisting a pillow. “Da, yes,  _ yes _ , Yuuri! I have never felt like this before. What am I to do with it? Die for you? Love you forever? I can do both.”

“Viktor!” I reel back, stunned by the declaration. He isn't simply spewing passionate things in the heat of his lust. He means what he says. I know because it’s shy Viktor saying it.

Holding his eye, I see the truth ringing in him: I'm  _ in _ . He’s let me in deep into his heart without ever drawing attention to how far in I’ve gone--how? I have reached the center of it without once looking back. Now I'm not sure I can ever get out.

I'm not sure I want to.

I focus on the hard cock in my hands. It’s slick with precome, throbbing, and every stroke I make sends a small noise up Viktor’s throat. I amuse myself cataloging the sounds; the gasps and whines and moans and breathy pleas. I find different techniques have different results, but my favorite is when he reaches back to hold me and he looks over his shoulder with light shining in his wet eyes.

Love. Eros.

My heart swells with joy.

To be honest, I'm not comfortable with the responsibility. What if I mess up? Hurt him? Lose him? Oh, god. It hurts just to think it. He has become a part of me.

We're at a crossroads. No matter what happens now, neither of us will ever be the same. We’ll either be shattered and untrusting apart, or whole and brimming with this love together. So I might as well be all in. Give it the best I have.

My breaths stutter and shorten. I’m playing with fire. How is it that I'm so eager to burn? I bite him again, this time on the neck. I'm going to leave a mark for everyone to see.

His hips bow away from me, thrusting deeper into my fist. His body shudders. His cock sputters into my cupped hand. I catch the mess, careful to spare our clothing and blankets, clean it away with a tissue from the nightstand.

Sweat at his hairline, roses on his cheek bones, heaving chest, Viktor rolls over to face me. He cups the side of my face. His lips curl into a grin. “Your turn.”

I laugh it off. “No. I'm okay.”

His eyes are heavy, his speech is almost slurred with tiredness. I give him a little kiss and tuck us in. “You’re about to pass out. Go to sleep, Viktor.”

“But--”

“I didn't even get going.” I promise. His hand checks me and finds that I am not lying. He blinks, bleary eyed. “Next time, my love.”

I laugh it off again. “Good night, Vitya.”

He curls into my chest and I cradle him against my heartbeat. Within seconds, he’s sound asleep.

That wasn't so bad. Still messy with weirdly inconvenient timing, but not bad. I would have preferred talking for the rest of the night, but I guess it's a trade off. The more sex I give, the more he’ll open up for me.

I close my eyes and vow to give him everything he ever needs.

:: :: ::

The next morning, I’m woken by hands on my body rather than an alarm. Without my glasses, I can't see anything but the blurry shapes of the room. I get my glasses on and find Viktor's side of the bed empty--because he’s burrowed beneath the blankets, between my knees.

“Good morning, my love,” he says against my navel. I shiver from the tickle of breath and the silky fingertips that peel away my underwear.

“Viktor?!?”

“Your turn!”

Panic sizzles up my spine. “I--uh--this isn't--”

“Yuuri?” He strokes me base to tip with baby smooth hands but it’s hardly enough to erase the alarm rocketing through me. I’m not hardening. His mouth touches me next, and that warrants a response but it isn't on the level he’s after, clearly, because he stops.

The shape of his head lifts the blanket. I push it down to reveal his concerned face. “Is it too early? Do you need coffee or something?”

Mortification paralyzes me. “I just don't. Uh. It-it takes a while for me to, um. It’s not you, it's me.”

“Shall I keep going then?”

_ No _ I want to say, but instead I nod. He looks pretty determined to pay me back for last night. I don't know why a blow job is his first option. A big breakfast in bed would have been good--except for the extra calories, I guess.

Physicality is his way to show his love, I remind myself.

His mouth works on me until I harden. I lay perfectly still with my eyes closed, attempting to lose myself in the pleasure but it just doesn't happen. It’s far too strange to have someone down there. I feel like I should be talking but what would I say? It's not like I can bring up the weather at a moment like this.

I don't know how many minutes crawl by before the sheer stimulation finishes me in a familiar, short burst. There, at last.

I drop into the pillows with relief. For a minute there I thought it would never happen. Viktor comes up for air, settling over my body. I wrap my arms around him with a happy little grin; it's so nice to see his face again. I realize that I have genuinely missed him as if he's been across an ocean not just down the bed sucking me off.

He looks troubled. “I'm usually quite good at that.”

“You were,” I say, realizing too late that I should be praising him. “It was good! Great! Really!” He looks unconvinced. Panicking, I sit up and grab his hands, “It's not like I have anything to compare it to! No one has ever done that for me before!”

Viktor’s eyebrows are flat and his eyes are lined. “You do not need comparison to know if you enjoyed it, Yuuri.”

“I--wha--What's important to me is if  _ you _ enjoyed it, Viktor.” I choke.

“So you didn't like it?”

“I did! It felt great!” Even I hear the lie in my forced sincerity. I truly hate myself. What's wrong with me? Why can't coming in my boyfriend's mouth be as exciting for me as it’s supposed to be?

Yes, the sheer sensation of it had led to a white hot blank feeling as I spilled on his tongue, a feeling unmatched by anything I've ever achieved with my fist … but truthfully, it feels better throughout my entire body whenever Viktor just looks at me with light in his eyes and gives me that special smile….

He isn't doing that now. My boyfriend looks younger than ever and vulnerable, withdrawn. Hurt.

Horrified with myself, I draw him near, put our foreheads together, lacing our fingers. I'll be honest with him, even if I'm not sure exactly what I feel. “It felt... weird.”

“Weird?”

“I don't know why. It just… it didn't feel like me.”

“What about last night?”

“I--” I start and then my eye lands on the love bite I put on his neck last night. Remembering the long discussion about his childhood and the sweet words we traded, I blush. Look away. “I love you Viktor. Last night was so good. Perfect.”

“That is what you would call perfect? But you didn't even get hard!”

“That's not important to me.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “You said you loved me. That's all I've ever wanted.” I put my hand on his heart. I feel it beating fast. “What you just did felt good, but… it was just a little… impersonal? We didn't talk. Or kiss. I didn't know how you felt. I couldn't feel your heart.”

His hand drops over mine on his chest and squeezes. He hooks a grin in his lips. “You want intimacy during sex?”

I nod emphatically. Yes. Absolutely. A must. I can say that with certainty.

“So what about when you fucked me?”

I lose my breath. “Viktor, that night was the best of my life.”

He blushes now. He’s so beautiful my heart hurts as he says, “Da, mine too.”

“But I never came.”

Viktor scoffs. “Don't be silly, of course you did!” I shake my head. His brows go low and he insists, “You finished!”

“I didn't.” I laugh and lean in to kiss his stunned expression. “And I didn't care. You were so--Viktor you gave me  _ so much. _ I had everything I ever needed. Like last night, when you shared so much about your life and then you said you would love me forever. That’s all I want. Nothing more.”

Emotionally, his attention this morning had been shades less moving than our previous encounters. My heart had felt fit to bursting those times. My whole body ached for his love. But this morning had happened so fast we hadn't built any of that intimacy. So my heart never got that swollen feeling of love for him. I felt mostly panicked and self conscious. So even though, physically, I felt something I hadn't felt before, I prefer the other times.

“You are a peculiar man, Yuuri.”

“I know.” I look down, thinking of all the ways I'm different. Wishing I wasn't. Viktor's hand cups my face and lifts it. Our lips meet. I pour my heart into the kiss. I need him to know how real my love is. Despite how lack luster I am in bed.

For the first time ever, Viktor is the one to pull away. He tucks hair over my ear, smiling and then sets back against the headboard. His knuckle goes to his lips. I recognize his deep thinking pose.

“So my lover does not like sex…” he mumbles to himself.

“It's not that I don't  _ like _ it,” I correct quickly. “I mean. It's fun. Especially with you. I just. I don't crave it like you do. Sometimes it's more of an inconvenience than anything else.”

“Inconvenience?” He looks stunned again. “Like how?”

“Last night. I would have been happy just holding you and talking all night. What we did instead was okay. You opened up to me in a different way. I liked it.”

He hums, sounding unconvinced.

“And--this morning,” I continue, “We could have had breakfast, talked more. Kissed. I don't know... It would have been good to just share the morning with you.”

He listens to this with a look of astounded interest. When I'm done he leans towards me a bit and smiles at me. “That is all you need for satisfaction?”

“I know it's weird.”

“Tell me truly, how often do you pleasure yourself?”

“Um… Not that often.” I admit with a blush.

“And how do you do it when you do?”

“The--the shower, mostly.”

“You use your fist?” I nod. His eyes flash. “Ever use your fingers?”

I shake my head. I've never been brave enough, never  _ needed _ it enough, to try that. Why do something that uncomfortable when something else does the job just fine?

“And you think of--what? Pork cutlet bowl?”

“No!” I chuckle. I pick up a pillow and whack him with it. Laughing, we wrestle for a moment. I'm not surprised when I pin him.

“What is it, then? Hm?” His eyes are half lidded. I feel him getting hard against me. “What do you think of when you make yourself feel good?”

“You,” I confess, easily. “Even before I ever met you, I would imagine you.”

His eyes are bright and his smile is huge and he's fully hard that fast, pressing into my thigh. “And what naughty things would I be doing for you?”

I laugh out right. “Nothing like that! I just thought of you skating. Sometimes I imagined I  _ was _ you. Confident and beautiful. The one everyone wanted. It--it worked best whenever I could totally forget myself.”

He frowns and twists his hips away. I'm relieved he intends to focus on conversation and not sex. “So even in your most primitive moments of eros you did not include the real you… No wonder you felt so alone.”

I gasp, feeling punched in the gut. He sits up, capturing my face in both of his hands. Our mouths never quite touch. “And since I became your coach? Has the fantasy changed?”

Cheeks burning under his palms, I try to look away but can't. His teal eyes hold my gaze as surely as his hands have my face. “I-I’ve only done it once since you've been coaching me.”

“Once?! In six months?”

I shrug. He chortles and his thumbs stroke my cheek bones. “Well? How did you think of me then?”

“Just… Here. Coaching me. All mine. I imagined that I was somehow special to you.”

He smiles. “That must be why your skating improved so drastically. You no longer excluded yourself from your own eros.”

I shrug. He kisses me. We recline onto the pillows, his ear to my heart, my fingers in his hair. “You feel love and it releases you emotionally. When you do come physically, it's from imagining love. You are a romantic,” Viktor sounds thrilled.

“I guess,” I murmur. Silence falls. I begin to think the subject is closed and start to relax.

“Once in six months!” Viktor repeats in a tone of shock and awe. He lifts his head. “You’re serious? You aren't pulling my leg?”

“My libido has never been particularly strong. I guess it takes that long for the tension to build up in me or something.”

“I go half mad if I can’t ejaculate regularly. I do it almost every night.”

At this, I give a jolt of surprise and laugh nervously, “Every night?”

“Almost. Keeping up with your stamina in the rink has me too exhausted to even try some nights though. But after you made love to me, I was so deeply satisfied… all I have to do is think about that night and no matter how exhausted I am, I'm ready to go again.”

“I want to give you everything you need, Viktor.” I gasp. “I might not crave sex, but if you do, then okay. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Then... then don't expect me to feel the same way about sex that you do. The worst part is when I see that I'm failing you because I'm not as moved by it all as you.”

“You have never failed me, Yuuri.”

“Even this morning?”

“Nyet. You surprised me. I love surprises.”

“And I love you.”

Viktor giggles, giving me a smile that I feel sure is only for me in all the world. “Yuuri, thank you for telling me all of this. I feel closer to you than ever.”

I giggle too and move in close as possible to him. He clasps his arms around me. I love him so much, I could die. I whisper, “I've never been this happy.”

His arms squeeze me. “Then it is settled. The way that we have sex is that I make sure you feel my love for you as you help me to get off. That is all that will be expected. Agreed?”

I curl my fingers into the front of his night shirt. “I promise I'll give it everything I've got. I’ll--I’ll watch your favorite erotic videos. I'll memorize everything you like. I'll learn how to use your toys on you the way you want. I’ll devote my  _ life _ to satisfying you, Vitya.”

He murmurs in Russian and he does that so much since I met him that I've picked up enough of the language to understand, for the most part, what he says. Something about me and the rest of his life.


	5. Chapter 5

We have a mere three days left in Japan before we jet off to Barcelona for the Grand Prix Final. We spend that time in the rink from sun up to sundown. And when we’re not skating or bathing or eating, we’re in his room and I'm practising a new kind of performance.

I use my Eros Personae, molding it after what excites my boyfriend the most. He likes to surrender control. He likes to be told what to do. It's embarrassing at first, to be assertive and bossy. I'm not as eloquent as I could be when I direct him on where to touch himself and how. But he's patient with me and enthusiastic about helping me learn my new role. It gets easier as I learn to use dirty talk. In these situations, I can say that what excites him is what excites me, even if it's not exactly true. It’s a performance, and one that Viktor appreciates very much if his stunning--often explosive--endings are anything to go by.

According to Viktor, our work in the sheets to expand on my Eros character comes through on the ice. He wolf whistles and claps and tells me I’ll melt all the ice in Barcelona. I'm inclined to believe he’s biased but I do feel stronger than ever.

I'm so jet lagged when we reach Barcelona that I go straight to bed. Next thing I know, Viktor and Chris Giacometti are half naked, freezing cold, and jumping into bed with me. I shriek and shove them away and escape their cold clutches. Leaving them to curl up together in my bed, I extract myself and go to draw a hot bath for Viktor.

I can hear them joking around in the next room. Smack talk. A pillow fight. I leave the tub filling up and return to the bathroom door to look out at them. Viktor and Chris go through the pictures of their recent poolside photoshoot. They're side by side, faces bent towards phone screens, half naked under the blankets, and complementing one another's bodies in the pictures.

It occurs to me that Chris may be one of my boyfriend's previous lovers. For one red hot moment, jealousy flares up, hot and poisonous, in my chest. I'm not threatened in the present even though they are so close in bed together. I know and trust Viktor’s love. But I'm jealous that as much as I have him now, I didn't have him then. I don't have his past to hoard like the treasure that it is.

I was never so greedy in my life until Viktor came to Hasetsu. My greed for him is boundless. He’s the single thing in the world that I would fight to my death to keep.

Viktor looks up from his phone and smiles with an exaggerated sigh of contentment. “I'm in Barcelona with my friends, and my Yuuri has drawn me a hot bath,” he brags, holding my gaze with love ladened eyes. “Does it get any better than this?”

Chris pouts. “Rubbing your convenient love life in my face is so unfair, Viktor. You know my Matsumi is far away from me back in Berne.”

Viktor leaves the bed and crosses the room to me. Because he knows how hesitant I am about sexual conduct with an audience (unless I'm on the ice), he only puts his forehead to mine and takes my hands. I grin at him and he grins back and we sway a little on the spot. His skin is still too cool to the touch. I worry he may have risked his health swimming in December.

“That’s it!” Chris cries. “I’m going to get Matsumi on the phone.”

“You could at least go to your own room to do that,” Viktor says as Chris commences to placing the call on his cell right there in the middle of the bed.

Chris grins with sparkling eyes. I sense a competitive flare in the other skater. “But my coach is in my room. I can't have phone sex in front of my coach.”

“Phone sex!” I cry. “Not in my bed!”

“How else can I make sure you two will hear it?” Chris pouts. “The idea is to prove which love is more satisfying.”

Viktor laughs as if it's all fun and games. I sputter, lost in my outrage. Which love is more _satisfying_? Does that mean Chris knows about how I don't come when I'm with Viktor? When Viktor’s eyes meet mine, his laughter dies. I see the guilt in his expression and my anger flares fresh.

He _did_ tell Chris! He told someone about how I don't come when we---oh god!

Pulling my boyfriend into the bathroom, I shut the door and turn on him, choking in horror, “You told him?”

Those perfect hands capture my waist. “My love, it slipped. I was simply bragging about how meaningful--”

“You. Can't. Tell. People!”

“Chris isn't people. He's my best friend and he asked about your performance.”

“Then you--you lie! You tell him I'm good and you leave it at that! You don't tell him I'm a, a, a _freak--”_

Viktor gasps and takes my face rather roughly in his hands, “Don't ever speak of yourself that way, my Yuuri. Not ever.” His lips pepper my mouth and cheeks with soft kisses.

I'm trembling. Hot tears burn my eyes. Viktor thumbs under the frames to swipe away the salty tears. “I'm sorry, Yura. Please forgive me. I will do anything. I did not think.”

“No, you didn't!” I grit out bitterly and shove his hands away.

“Rest assured he will never tell a soul. Chris is a good secret keeper.”

I realize the tub is going to overflow if it isn't shut off soon so I pull out of Viktor's arms and cross the room to turn the taps. Steam rises from the clear clean hot water. Five minutes ago, everything was so easy, so right and good… Now…

“I’ll tell Chris he has to go--” Viktor begins, turning toward the door.

“No, wait!” I say. An idea has sprang to mind fully formed. Viktor turns back towards me. I stand and clench my fists.

“What did he say when you told him?”

Viktor looks scared. I feel a knot of dread in my gut but I repeat my question.  I have to know, even if I don't want to hear it.

“He was surprised,” Viktor finally answers. “Of course he was. He never thought I would settle for a lover that did not enjoy sex as I do.” At this I gasp but Viktor rushes to gather me in his arms, talking fast. “But I told him it is not _settling_ when it is the most powerful love I have ever known. To be with you is not like it was with others because it is better. So much better.”

Jealousy flares up again at the mention of his past that does not include me. I want to erase that history. I want his whole world to be me, like he’s mine. When I speak, even I'm surprised by the firm power in my voice. “Then we’re going to prove that to him.”

“What?” Viktor truly has the most adorable stunned expression. I cup the side of his face. The idea fizzes under my skin like Champaign. Yes. I can do this. My Eros Personae knows _exactly_ what to do.

“While he's in there with Matsumi on the phone, we’ll be in here,” I say, as I unceremoniously strip him of his robe and untie his swimming trunks. “I’m going to make sure he _knows you're satisfied.”_

Viktor's eyes are wide and his jaw is slack. He gasps as I shove his damp shorts to the bathroom floor. “Right now?”

I nod once with my jaw clenched in determination. “Get in the tub, Vitya.”

It pleases me immensely that I don't have to tell him twice. His obedience sizzles under my skin. I _do_ own him. And I'm going to make sure Chris--hell, everyone on this floor of the hotel--knows it.

Viktor looks young and trembles like a race horse as I kneel by the bath. It's an expensive claw footed tub that allows me to be directly behind him. I place my hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the tremor in his body.

“Yuuri, something has come over you. You're so…” When I bite his ear, he trails off for a moment but then pants. “Different.”

We've had a few days for me to practice my Eros Personae in bed but I've yet to perform with this level of command. But just thinking that Chris must assume I don't deserve Viktor has lit a fire in me. I’ll prove that I deserve him. That I have him. That I'm never letting go.

“Is that bad?” I ask as I push my hands over his shoulders and down his chest, into the hot water and back up over his pert nipples.

Viktor shakes his head vigorously and I chuckle. “The thing is… I’ve realized that I want to make sure no one can possibly doubt that _I am_ the one that satisfies you. _Me_. No one else.”

“You,” Viktor puffs and it’s amazing how shaken he already sounds. All I've done is rub his chest and tease his nipples. The power he gives me thrums through my body. It's ten times more satisfying than any decadent food or blow job could ever be. Viktor Nikiforov is _mine_ , at my mercy.

“So you have to be loud for me, Vitya. Let the whole of Spain hear your love for me.”

Viktor gasps and nods. “Da, yes, I can… I can do that.”

I feel grounded but also light and free. Combing his hair over the shell of one perfect ear, I whisper into it. “I love making you feel good. You're a part of me. You're the part of me that needs to be released. You're cock… is _mine_ ,” I take him in hand. As expected, he’s hard as a rock.

As I start to stroke him, he whimpers and pants my name and Russian syllables under his breath.

“Louder than that,” I command in his ear. “Or is it not good enough?”

“It's good, so good--aaaahh-hhaa! Oh!” His voice reverberates around the tile of the bathroom. I smirk because there is no way Chris didn't hear that. I squeeze Viktor at the base and tease his balls.

“Do you like that?”

His back is arched, the water lapping hard against the tub from the uncontrolled jerk of his hips. “Yes,” he chokes.

I remove my arm from the water and stand to reach the towel.

Viktor looks up at me with steamy anticipation. What will I do next? His wet lips tremble. I brace myself on each side of the tub and lower myself over the surface of the water. I can feel the steam pushing against the thin fabric of my shirt. It fogs my glasses a little.

Viktor surges up into my kiss, needy. His soaked hands rake my hair backwards, and drip on my shoulder. I bite his lip and giggle at how breathless he is.

“Does it excite you that we have an audience?” I ask.

“Yes. I've never seen you this hard before.”

“Hard?” I look down at myself in confusion. Viktor laughs and corrects his English. “Stern.”

“Yes, I am. Because you've been bad, Viktor. You didn't keep our secrets and now you have to be punished.”

Viktor sinks up to his chin, voice shaking on the first word. “W-what are you going to do to me?”

I open the bathroom door. “You’ll see. Now be good and open yourself up, Viktor.”

Steam follows me into the room. Chris is in my bed, speakerphone on the pillow next to his head. He is rosey cheeked but otherwise modest beneath the blanket tented by his knees. I'm inwardly grateful for that and smirk. He sits up a little more, jaw dropping.

On the phone, Matsumi moans and asks where Chris’ hand is now.

Chris answers with a wicked giggle--proving to be much further along than we are--but watches me with sparky interest as I calmly retrieve my bag and dig to the bottom of it.

I made sure to pack the items that I have learned to use on Viktor. Not all of them are embarrassing to be caught with like his favorite dildo is. They are everyday items like one of my ties, my belt, and the large wooden hairbrush I took from his room. I don't know if I'll use more than the dildo tonight but I will if it means beating Chris and Matsumi.

We may not have a conventional relationship but Viktor is _mine_ and I will prove it.

In the tub, Viktor has prepared himself. In a last minute fit of boldness spurned by my deeply offended competitive spirit, I leave the bathroom door ajar one inch. Let Chris hear every sound. Every word.

Viktor. Is. Mine.

I kiss him. Stroke him. Tease him. Blindfold him with his tie. Tease him with the bristles of his brush. When he is begging loudly and crying for it, I push his favorite toy in nice and slow. He never forgets his directive to be as loud as he can. But near the end his voice simply lacks the strength to truly carry.

“I'm yours, I'm yours,” he sobs as he rides. It doesn't take long for him to spill.

“Vitya,” I praise him with gentle kisses. I pull the tie away from his teary eyes and kiss each one. He slumps back in the tub with a smile that gives me purpose in life. Tugging on the chain I release the drain and simply nuzzle him with sweet little kisses until the water is gone from the tub.

We remove the toy carefully. He climbs out on shaky legs, and I wrap him in a big fluffy towel. In a dream like kind of daze he makes his way to the bed. Chris is there, fully dressed and sitting up against the headboard.

“My,” he drawls. “What an incredibly dominating lover you make, Yuuri. I am jealous.”

I blush. “When you love someone--you give it everything you have.”

“But you do not come?”

“No.” I clip shortly. I won't be ashamed by it. I can't be. Not after what I know Chris just witnessed. I climb into bed next to Viktor--who as expected is drifting off to sleep. “But Viktor doesn't need me to. He just needs a performance to help his own release. If I can do nothing else, I can perform.”

“So you physically cannot come?”

“I didn't say that,” my resolve not to be ashamed slips. “I--I can.”

“Yet you do not?”

“Rarely,” Viktor murmurs for me. His hand takes mine and he smiles. His eyes are closed. “That just means if he ever does come for me, it’s that much more special. Right, my love?”

Appreciating the _if_ when a lesser man would have said _when_ , I nuzzle up behind him, the big spoon to his little spoon. “Right, my Vitya.”

“I hate you both,” Chris purrs playfully. “You remind me of my Matsumi. He fits with me like you two fit together.”

Viktor yawns and lifts tired arms towards his friend. “We will cuddle you until Matsumi can. Won't we, Yuuri?”

I nod. Chris launches over the both of us and snuggles in behind me as the biggest spoon. I choke in surprise and then chuckle. “You are good for Viktor,” Chris says against my shoulder.

: : : : :

I don't take the gold after all, and I am glad I found the nerve to love and be loved--otherwise the disappointment would have crushed me to death. Instead, the prospect of another competitive season (now skating _against_ Viktor) excites me as thoroughly as nipple play does for Viktor.

When I whisper this to him there on the rink floor where we have collapsed with happiness, he throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, Yuuri, you know me better than God.”

I blush, even though I have never been religious. “I--I’m just a man, Viktor.”

“Sometimes, I am not so sure of that.” Vulnerable Viktor says, eyes shining above that tender smile. My heart skips a beat.

“Oh, Viktor….” I want tell him how I once believed him to be utter perfection. Compared to how I feel now, that silly crush was not love. I am stricken with sudden fear that Viktor doesn't love the real me, and my voice doesn't work.

In the space where I struggle to speak, Vulnerable Viktor blends into Coach Nikiforov. “But then you go and get the silver and I am reminded again!”

I gasp, offended but laughing my relief.

Neither of us are perfect, but we love each other's flaws. It is just like skating. If you don't love the hard part then you can't be a skater. I think if you aren't prepared to take a person in their entirety, good and bad, then you can't truly love that person. I never understood that before now, and I used to agonize over my own imperfections, believing it made me unlovable.

Viktor has opened my eyes to the truth of love, and for that I can never repay him.

  
_fin_


End file.
